Captain Rogers And The Norseman's Cube

by RobotRollCall

It's 1938 and Steve Rogers and his best friend, Bucky Barnes, are about to start their first year at Hogwarts. There are spells to learn and friends to make, but war is brewing on the horizon, and a shadow more dangerous than Hitler or Grindelwald is awakening...Hydra. A magical re-telling of Captain America: The First Avenger.

59. Going Undercover

Okay, we're back! Bucky's slowly been going nuts waiting for a lead on where Steve is, but they've got one now, and if Hydra knows what's good for them, they'll get out of his way. He's going undercover, and Peggy's coming with him-Hydra would do well to steer clear of her too. Just because she's wearing heels for this one doesn't mean she won't take them down.

---

It was days before anything good turned up. Days. Bucky was going crazy, and there was nothing he could do. No plans he could make, no puzzles to figure out, no bad guys to punch. Nothing that made him feel like he was doing anything but sitting around waiting. Peggy and Phillips were tearing through every bit of intel they had, their spies were pulling all the strings they were attached to, and while the Howlies helped in every way they could, Bucky just felt like they were spinning their wheels. Was this what Steve had felt like a year and a half ago when they'd all gone missing?

It got even worse when the end of term arrived and everyone was being sent home for Easter Break. Steve should be here, and they should be going home, but Bucky and the rest of the team weren't going anywhere.

"You be careful now, okay, Munchkin?" Bucky said. He had walked Becky down to the train station and was waiting with her on the platform. She'd never been on the train by herself before.

"I'll be okay, Jay," Becky assured him. "You're the one who needs to be careful."

"I will be," he promised her. He cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her forehead. "I'll come back. I promise. And I'll have Steve with me. We'll be home soon."

"You'd better," she said thickly, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He hugged her back tightly and kissed the top of her head. The train whistle sounded. "Better get going, okay?" he said, pulling back and ruffling her hair. "You be good for Ma and Pop, okay?"

Becky snorted. "I'm always good."

Bucky laughed. "Sure you are. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay." She hugged him one more time and headed for the train, taking Esther's hand. They found a seat by the window and waved goodbye to Bucky and Jim until the train was out of sight.

Jim sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he turned to walk back up the hill. "It's weird, not being on the train, huh?"

"Yeah," Bucky agreed. It would be weirder being at home without Steve.

"D'you hear they shipped that Warner guy off to Azkaban?" Jim asked. Warner was the man they'd brought back from Salzburg. He'd remained obstinate at first, but Phillips had eventually broken him down and gotten quite a lot of information for his trouble. Unfortunately, none of that information had been where Steve was. Warner hadn't known. He'd admitted that after leaving the farmhouse, they'd been set to meet at a rendezvous point —which had been thoroughly searched by multiple S.S.R. teams—but that Steve was to be immediately transported elsewhere from there, and that location had been a need-to-know basis. Warner hadn't needed to know.

"Yeah, this morning, right?" Bucky asked. He didn't really care. May as well get rid of Warner if he wasn't any use. And Azkaban seemed like a fair place to send a Hydra agent.

"Yeah. He—" Whatever else Jim had been about to say was cut off in a yelp of surprise as a silver bobcat materialized in the air right in front of them.

"Hey, guys, get up here fast," it said in Gabe's voice. "We think we've got something."

The bobcat vanished and Bucky and Jim took off running, gasping and breathing hard by the time they arrived in Peggy's office. "What'd you find?" Bucky panted.

"This," Peggy said, slapping a photograph down on the table. The picture was moving, and for a moment, Bucky thought it was just a bunch of guys in black going through a door. But as the image repeated itself, he saw a familiar blond head in the middle of it all, limp and clearly unconscious. "Steve," he breathed. He looked up. "Where is this? When was it taken?"

"It was taken the day he went missing," Peggy replied. "And it's in Salzburg."

"Salzburg?" Bucky repeated. He swallowed down a nauseous knot in his throat. "They moved him like a mile away and we didn't go after him?"

"There was no way of knowing," Peggy said gently.

"Besides, I'm the one who said he could be anywhere," Jim pointed out with a frown. He looked over at Bucky. "Don't beat yourself up over it, Sarge."

"At least we know where he is now," Gabe pointed out.

"Why are we only getting this now?" Bucky asked. "He got taken five days ago."

"Our communication in and out of Austria is very limited right now," Peggy said. "Especially after…" Her cheeks went faintly pink. Bucky knew she was blaming herself for not realizing the whole thing had been a setup, even though no one else did. They'd all fallen for it, and it had to be a hell of a forgery to get past Peggy. "Well, anyway, we have a man in Salzburg, and we weren't able to get hold of him until yesterday. He didn't know we were looking for Steve or he would have sent it earlier."

"Why did he have the picture, then?" Monty asked before Bucky could.

"He wasn't looking for Steve, but he was watching that house," Peggy replied. "It happens to belong to a very prominent Hydra agent named Hugo Zwart. He's fourth in command to Schmidt. There've been people watching that house since before the war started."

"So, we know where he is," Bucky said. "Let's prep and go."

"It's not as simple as that," Peggy said, cutting across the murmurs of agreement from the other guys. "Zwart is a brilliant scientist and inventor. And he's Number Four out of all of Hydra. He is clever, he is insanely powerful, and there is a reason why, after seven years, we still only have surveillance of the outside of his house."

"The right curses and explosives—" Monty started.

"Would make a mess and get Steve and all of you killed," Peggy cut him off. "This is not the time and the place for force."

"You have an idea," Bucky said.

"I have an idea," Peggy confirmed.

Zwart's security was all but impenetrable, with one exception: an invitation. And as it so happened, Zwart was not just the fourth most powerful man in Hydra, but a high-ranking member of the Nazi Party and a prominent city official in Salzburg—off the record, he was more powerful than the governor. And until Hydra achieved their dream of world domination and the oppression of all non-magical people (along with opposing magical people), that meant he had to play along with society's rules and be a good public official, mingling and networking and being a good host. And two days from now was the mayor's birthday.

"So, he's throwing a party," Dugan said, sounding unimpressed.

"The newspaper says, 'a small gathering for Salzburg's notable citizens'," Gabe read. His eyebrows went up. "Two hundred people is a small gathering? And his house is big enough for that?"

"Easily," Peggy replied, not sounding bothered. She tapped the stack of photographs their spy had been sending. Jacques let out an impressed whistle, and Bucky couldn't help but be somewhat impressed in spite of himself. He didn't think he'd ever actually seen a real mansion before. "Dancing between Hydra and Nazi politics pays very well," Peggy added, as if reading his mind.

"So, how do we get invited to this party?" Jim asked. "I'm guessing we're not on the guest list."

"No," Peggy said. "But two hundred other people are."

"Polyjuice potion again?" Gabe guessed.

Peggy grimaced. "No. We're going to have to get into this house strictly without magic. No wands, no concealment spells, nothing. His security will be checking for that sort of thing."

"So…" Jim said.

"So, here's the guest list," Peggy replied. She dropped a box filled with photographs onto the table, some, candids taken by the spy, others, newspaper clippings. "We need to find someone that at least one of you could pass for to get in."

"That's kind of iffy," Gabe pointed out, grabbing a stack of pictures.

"It's Plan A," Peggy said. "We've got plenty of other letters to go."

They spent a little while looking through pictures. In the end they found three. There was an Admiral who bore a resemblance to an older Dugan. He was discarded because he was high-ranking enough, it was likely that Zwart would have met him and an impersonation would be risky. Among the staff hired for the evening was a guy who looked enough like Monty that the switch would have been easy enough, but they vetoed that one too because the last guy looked like Bucky, and if anyone was going after Steve, it was him.

"Tell me this guy will work," he said to Peggy, as she pulled out the paper with all the information they had on Captain Daniel Klimt.

"I think…" Peggy mused as her eyes scanned the paper. "I think he will." She looked up at him. "You're going to have to dye your hair." Klimt was definitely the blond-haired, blue-eyed Aryan ideal, but other than that, he could have been Bucky's older brother.

"So, they look alike," Dugan said. "But they're not twins. Are we sure Zwart's not gonna look at him and go, 'You're not the guy I met before!'? Because if so, I think Monty as an unobtrusive waiter is the way to go."

"I think Monty as a waiter is a good idea anyway. But the help isn't allowed everywhere, especially when they should be working, and Klimt and Zwart haven't met," Peggy said. "Zwart's been away for a few months on what he claims to be military business but is actually Hydra work, and Klimt was stationed in the city two months ago. And he's not Hydra, just a regular Nazi, but he gets invited to the party because he's very rich and has an influential father in Vienna."

"Okay," Bucky said. "I can be Daniel Klimt. Let's start planning."

"No, no. We," Peggy said, indicating the rest of the group. "Will start planning. You have work to do."

"Dyeing my hair?" he guessed. He didn't see how that was going to take two days.

"Dyeing your hair, memorizing Klimt's biography, going over photos of people you should know and what you should talk about. You can't just look like him, you need to be him. And you need to know how to dance. Can you dance?"

"Yeah, I can dance. Why?"

Peggy sighed. "Because it's a party. We're not just going to go in there and start looking for Steve right off; we've got to act like we belong."

"We?"

"You and me. I'm your date."

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, then shut it. No backup would be stupid, and Peggy was better at this high society stuff than he was. "Okay." Something occurred to him. "What about the German? I don't speak it, but Klimt's Austrian, so he does. And you said no magic, so I'm guessing a charm or something won't work."

"Talk to Howard," Gabe said as Peggy opened her mouth to speak. "Sorry," he said, looking over at her. "Were you gonna suggest the thing he and I were working on?"

"Yes," Peggy said. "Do your hair first so the dye can set and look more natural, then go and talk to Howard."

"You say, 'do your hair first' as if I have any idea how to change the color of my hair without magic," Bucky said.

Peggy realized he had a point, so she left the rest of the boys to go over security plans and went with Bucky. She directed him to the bathroom off of the office and came back not much later with a chair and a box of hair dye she had 'borrowed' from the back of Louise's closet. "I'll pay her back when she gets back to school," she said. "Have a seat."

It was very strange, sitting there with a towel around his neck and his head in the sink as Peggy mixed and poured and lathered his hair. Before she let him get up, she laid a cloth over his eyes and used an eyedropper and a Q-tip to brush some of the dye into his eyebrows, which he hadn't thought about until just then. "How do you know how to do all this?" Bucky asked. He didn't think Peggy dyed her hair.

"I help Louise with it sometimes," she replied. He heard a dry smile in her voice as she continued. "And I read the instructions on the side of the box."

After it all had a chance to set, she rinsed it out and dried his hair off, then gestured for him to get up and look at the mirror. Bucky's jaw dropped at the sandy-haired stranger staring back at him. "Whoa," he breathed, running a hand through his hair to make sure it was really his.

"That is a really different look for you," Peggy said, studying him thoughtfully. She shook her head. "Alright. Go see Howard. Learn German"

"How is he supposed to teach me German?" Bucky wondered. He figured Howard spoke it, but teaching it to him was going to take more than two days.

"Just go," Peggy said. "He'll explain it."

Howard did explain it, although in his typical fashion, it was in phrases too techno-babbly for Bucky to actually follow. The gist of it seemed to be that it was a spell. "A spell?" he confirmed. Howard nodded. "But magical concealment or enhancement or whatever is off the table for this one," he reminded him.

"That's why we're doing this now," Howard said. "See, if it was a disguise or something, the magic would still be happening, maintaining itself while you were there, and Zwart's detection spells would catch it. But this is more like…Okay, this is a bad example, but like if I injured you with magic. Like I cut a big gash in your arm."

"Uh huh," Bucky said warily.

"So, the magic, after I cast it, would fade away, but the effect would remain. The wound would still have to heal. Same principle here. The German in your head is like the wound—it'll linger after the magic is gone. Except, it won't hurt. I mean, it will hurt a little going in, probably. But I'm not damaging your brain or anything."

"You're not exactly filling me with confidence, here," Bucky said.

Howard smiled. "I told you it was a bad example. Don't worry, it's been tested. Me and Gabe have been working on this for a while. You're not a guinea pig; this is gonna work."

"Okay," Bucky said, still a little unsure. "And then, what, I'm just gonna know German?"

"For a while. We haven't been able to figure out how to get it to stick, but you'll have three days, which is enough time for you to do this mission and get back," Howard explained. He held up his wand. "You ready?"

Bucky wanted to say no, but there was no way he could pass for Klimt without speaking German, and if he couldn't pass for Klimt, he couldn't save Steve. "Do it," he said.

Howard started muttering and the end of his wand started glowing a light blue, and the inside of Bucky's head suddenly got very noisy. Someone was talking and it sounded German—he didn't understand it yet—but it was getting louder and louder and faster and faster, and all the words, instead of just passing through, were getting caught inside his brain. He could feel them piling up one on top of the other, quickly running out of room and pressing against the inside of his skull, and his head felt like a balloon and air kept getting pushed in and pushed in and it was about to pop.

Suddenly, it was quiet, though the pounding in his head remained. He took a step, staggered, and Howard was next to him with a hand around his arm. "It'll take a little while to settle," he said, steering him toward the couch in the corner. "Try to take a nap; that'll really help."

Bucky tried to argue that he had a lot he had to do to get ready for this mission, but his head was really pounding now, and his eyeballs felt like they were going to drum right out of their sockets. He lowered his eyelids to keep his eyeballs inside his head, then felt himself sinking down into the couch cushions, the rhythm in his head pounding him into unconsciousness.

When he woke up, he thought for a minute that whatever was pounding in his head was still going, but it turned out to be Howard hammering something on the other side of the room. "Hey, how're you feeling?" Howard asked, looking up from his hammering.

"Fine," Bucky said, rubbing the side of his head to make sure. "So, how do I know if it worked?"

Howard grinned. "It is working. I asked how you were doing in German and you just rolled right with it. This whole conversation is happening in German."

"Really?" It didn't sound any different to him, so he paid attention and started talking again. "So, I'm really talking in German right now? Without even trying?" Oh, yeah, he could hear it now. That was…really cool and really weird. "Wait, can I only talk in German now?" He wasn't sure how to stop.

"No, you just have to concentrate on the switch," Howard said. They spent a little while practicing switching back and forth until Bucky got the hang of it.

"Oh, good, you're here," Monty said, pushing the door open. His eyes landed on Bucky and went wide. "Wow." Oh, yeah, Bucky had forgotten about his hair. "Right, um," Monty continued, collecting himself. "I'm here for the German thing as well. Peggy has a lot of stuff she wants you to read," he told Bucky.

He thanked Howard and left, returning to where Peggy and the guys were strategizing and waiting out the surprised chorus of comments about his hair. Peggy handed him a folder she'd put together with as much of Klimt's life story as she could gather, pointing out significant names and dates he'd need to make sure he knew. Before he started reading, he wanted to know what they'd come up with so far, so they laid out the plan for him. Jacques and Monty were going to get the waiter, and Jacques was going to keep an eye on him while Monty went to the house. Dugan, Bucky and Peggy were going to take out Klimt, then Dugan would stand guard over him while Bucky and Peggy left from his house for the party. Gabe and Jim were going to work lookout around the house—Gabe would be listening in everywhere he could, and Jim would monitor the magical defenses and be on call in case they needed medical support.

"Okay, something about this has been bothering me," Bucky said.

"Your hair is bothering me," Jim said.

Bucky ignored him. "Is Zwart really going to throw a big party at his house with a hostage tied up in the basement or wherever? Won't he just take Steve somewhere else?"

"The place is big enough, there's no reason for the guests to come across wherever he's keeping Steve," Peggy said. "And our man, Ryan, hasn't taken his eyes off the house since we told him we were coming—Steve hasn't left."

"Alright," Bucky said.

"Now get back to your reading," Peggy told him. "Once the plan is finalized, we'll go over it and you can help us tighten it up then."

It felt weird not to be in on the planning part of the mission, but she was right. Bucky settled down in a corner away from them and started his reading. He decided the best way to memorize it was to just read it through, then start over, and do it again and again. He paused briefly for dinner, eating as he read, then was surprised when Peggy appeared to shoo him off to bed.

"No, I need to know this," he protested.

"Bucky, you've hardly slept since Steve went missing," she said. "We are heading into a dangerous mission, and you need a proper night's sleep—tonight and tomorrow—so you can be on top of your game. You can pick this back up in the morning." She snatched the folder away from him and eyed him critically. "Do you need a sleeping potion?"

"No, I'll be okay," he told her. She was right, and he was tired. He was still worried about what could be happening to Steve, though, so he headed down to the kitchen for a cup of Willow's tea to help him sleep. Though she cast several curious glances at him, she made no comment about his hair.

Bucky slept soundly, feeling better than he had all week when he got up, though he did yelp a little bit when he caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror and remembered what he had done to his hair. Jacques found that very amusing.

He spent the rest of the morning reading and re-reading his folder, and when he thought he was about to go crazy from staring at the same fifteen pages for so long, he got up and joined back in with the planning of security and transport for a little while. Peggy quizzed him on his reading material and decided he wasn't bad, but he wasn't perfect, so she sent him back to his corner to read. By the time he went to bed that night with another cup of Willow's tea in hand, his mind was reeling with what sports Klimt had played in university, the names of the Nazi Colonels he hunted pheasants with on the weekends, the plethora of girls he'd left behind in Vienna, and the name of his favorite opera house in Salzburg. He read over it all again one more time as they ate breakfast, and then it was time to hit the road.

Back to the safe house in Salzburg, they split from there to their various assignments. Gabe and Jim went directly to Zwart's house to start surveillance, Jacques and Monty to the waiter's home across town, and Peggy, Dugan and Bucky to Daniel Klimt's upscale apartment. He was out for the day, not expected back in until the afternoon, according to the doorman. Breaking in was a simple matter of sneaking up the stairs and picking the lock.

They spent most of the day going through everything for any more information that might have been important, with Dugan making sarcastic remarks about the swankiness of the rooms and furniture. "Cushy gig for me tonight, though," he said, leaning back on one of the sofas and resting his dirty boots on the mahogany table.

The key in the lock had them all springing to attention, then Dugan's Stunning spell had Klimt and the girl he was with hitting the floor before they knew anyone was in the room. (Peggy and Bucky wouldn't be using magic, but Dugan wasn't going near Zwart's house.) They were quickly tied up, briefly interrogated for any last-minute important information, and then it was time to get ready.

Bucky stood in Klimt's room, surveying himself in the mirror. He was wearing Klimt's dress uniform, a stark, crisp black with shining silver eagles on the lapels and a vivid red arm band emblazoned with a swastika. He swallowed down a lump of distaste. It was easy to think of Klimt as some spoiled stupid rich kid, but his rank was high enough that it would have taken more than just his dad's money to get him there. Bucky hated to think about what the person who was usually in this uniform had done to get his Captain's bars. He sighed and put his coat and hat on. Big picture. Saving Steve. He could play Nazi for a few hours.

He waited in the living room with Dugan, and was very aware of his jaw dropping when Peggy walked in from the spare room. She was wearing a slinky silver evening gown, diamonds sparkling on her ears and at her throat. Her hair was twisted up in an elaborate silver clip before falling in elegant curls back down her neck, and she'd done something different with the makeup around her eyes and it was hard to stop staring at them.

Bucky regained his composure before Dugan did and elbowed him in the side so he'd close his mouth. "You look, uh, you look…" Dugan stammered.

"You look great," Bucky said, moving to pick up the white fur coat she'd laid across a chair earlier.

"Thank you," she said, slipping her arms into the coat. "Shall we?"

Bucky took her arm in his and they went downstairs to call a taxi. They didn't talk much on the way. Bucky's nerves were really churning by the time they reached the house. He did dangerous things all the time, but with no wand or weapons he felt almost naked.

They took a moment outside the cab, under the pretense of straightening coats, for Bucky to make the conscious switch in his mind to German and try out a couple of phrases just to make sure. Peggy, by this time, was fluent, and it occurred to Bucky to wonder just how many languages she knew.

Satisfied that he was ready, they headed up the steps to the front door, where a waiting butler accepted their invitation card and let them in. "Whoa," Bucky said under his breath. Everything was rich marble and thick velvet and there was an actual crystal chandelier in the ceiling.

Peggy elbowed him surreptitiously. "Stop looking so impressed, you're used to this, remember?"

Bucky schooled his face into something calmer as two waiting attendants approached and took their coats and his hat. "So, what do we do now?" he asked.

"We mingle," she said, reaching up to smooth his hair out.

"I know that," he said, taking her arm in his again. "I meant, where do we start?" He knew enough about rich people to know you did things in a certain way, but he didn't know what they were.

"Let's start here," she said, nodding toward the man approaching them. Bucky swallowed hard and forced himself to smile. It was Zwart.

"Herr Zwart," he said, stepping forward with an extended hand. "Such a pleasure to meet you sir, a pleasure. Your invitation was so very kind."

Zwart took his hand and shook it. "It's Captain Klimt, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Bucky replied, inclining his head.

"A pleasure to meet you, Captain. I've heard good things about you. I must say, you look rather younger than your photographs."

Bucky laughed. "You're not the first to say it, sir, though it's very kind of you. It was a trick getting into bars in my university days with this face," he added.

Fortunately, Zwart laughed in response. "I'm sure it was." He turned to Peggy and Bucky allowed himself a little sigh of relief. He seemed to be passing so far. "And who is your lovely companion?"

"Elsa von Weir," Peggy said with a girlish giggle Bucky had never heard her make before. She extended her hand and curtsied slightly as Zwart kissed her fingers.

"Well, welcome, Captain, Miss von Weir. There are some other guests I must attend to, but, please, make yourselves comfortable," Zwart said, gesturing at the crowd of people in the ballroom beyond. "I am anxious to talk to you later, Captain. Your work in our eugenics program fascinates me."

"It would be my pleasure, sir," Bucky replied, though his face fell as he and Peggy walked away. He knew that was a big part of Klimt's job, but there hadn't been much information on it. "Why does he want to talk to me about eugenics? I don't know anything about eugenics."

"You're new in town, he's being polite, and, well, Hydra's probably interested in all the eugenics information it can find. Wanting to make more superior men and whatnot."

"Peggy, I can't talk to him about eugenics."

"Don't worry, you don't have to," Peggy assured him. "You've never been to a party like this before, have you?"

"Oh, yeah. Steve and me, we hit all the weekend galas at the Waldorf-Astoria when we're home."

"Shut up," Peggy said, though she smirked a little. "Look, he's going to be greeting people coming in for the next hour or so. Once everyone's here, he'll work his way through the important people, and you, Daniel Klimt, are not that important. He's going to get to you much later in the evening."

"You sure?"

"Trust me. Besides," she added. "If things get sticky, I can pull you out."

"How?" he wondered. He didn't think Peggy knew any more about eugenics than he did.

She smiled. "Oh, people make a lot of indulgences for a young, silly girl."

"You're not a silly girl," he said automatically.

She smiled wider. "No. But no one here knows that, do they? Now, come on, Captain. Let's mingle."

They started wandering the main ballroom, making small talk with a few more people. "Bucky," Peggy sighed. "You don't have to hold my arm like you're escorting me down the stairs the whole time. Put your arm around my waist."

"What?"

"Like this," Peggy said, taking his hand and placing it on her hip, pulling her closer to him.

He instinctively pulled it back. "No, I…" He felt his face getting warm. This was Peggy. He wasn't supposed to touch her like that.

"Bucky, a couple sneaking off to have a snog is the perfect cover for exploring the house, but before we do that, you've got to act like you actually like me first."

They had discussed that beforehand, but Bucky hadn't actually given any thought to what that entailed until now. "Yeah, I just, it's weird. I don't think Steve would like me being all handsy with you and everything."

Two men in Nazi uniforms walked by and Peggy leaned in against him, laughing softly as if he'd said something funny. "Since we're doing it to save his life," she said quietly. "I think he'd be okay with it." Though her body language was soft and flirtatious, there was something a little bit dangerous in her eyes when she looked up at him. "More importantly, you do not now nor will you ever need Steve's permission to touch me. You need mine. And right now, for this mission, you have it. So put your arm around my waist."

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, sliding his arm around her.

She smiled again. "Good man. Come on." She slid her arm around his back and they started walking again.

Once they made it through a couple of conversations without getting their cover blown, Bucky started to relax. He chatted with Nazi officials and Hydra agents, recalling names from his folder and making up stories to go along with them. Someone asked about a mutual schoolmate, and Bucky shared a story that was actually something Jacques had done and changed the names and got a laugh. Someone else mentioned a Nazi officer he was supposed to serve under, and Bucky nodded and smiled and got a knowing wink when he said the rest was classified. Whenever questions started getting a little personal, he recalled something from the file and turned it back on the questioner—Do you still play poker with Gregor Schwartz? I haven't seen him in ages, how is he? Oh, yes, the opera last week was wonderful, which of Wagner's compositions is your favorite? And so on, and so forth. Everyone liked to talk about themselves.

"You're getting good at this," Peggy whispered from where she was hanging on his shoulder.

"Well, now that I'm sure no one's trying to kill me," he said. "This is a test I studied for."

"Can I offer you anything, sir?" came a familiar voice from behind him. He turned and saw Monty standing there with a tray.

"Thank you," Bucky said, picking up the least weird-looking snack on the tray. He didn't know what any of it was. He lowered his voice. "What have you found?"

"The west wing of the house is clear," Monty said quietly. "Kitchens, laundry, service entry. I've been through all of it and it's far too busy to have anyone tucked away. I even managed to sneak upstairs and give the servant's quarters a going over."

"Makes sense," Peggy said in a low voice. "He wouldn't want Steve somewhere he'd have to go through the servants to get to."

"My money is on the south wing," Monty replied. "Zwart's valet gave us all a rundown when we arrived, and we were told repeatedly to stay out of the south wing. I mean, those of us hired extra for tonight aren't supposed to go anywhere else, actually, besides the kitchen and the ballroom, but he was very firm on the south wing thing."

"Good place to start," Bucky said with a nod. "Thanks."

Monty nodded and continued his rounds with his tray. "Oh, and I'd keep an eye on him," he added before he got too far, nodding at the valet. "I think he's more dangerous than he looks."

Bucky and Peggy spent some more time meandering, surreptitiously eyeing the south side of the ballroom and watching who came and went. Peggy drifted away for a little while with a flock of giggling girls, and Bucky felt suddenly nervous without her attached to his side. He'd found himself in the company of several men ranging in age talking about cars. At least that was something he knew about, so he could chime in or spend the time when other people were talking watching the room without missing important details. Zwart was making his rounds of the people Bucky assumed were more important than him. He watched him slowly make his way around the room, and he clocked a couple of Hydra agents he'd recognized from the briefing photos who kept shooting glances at the south wing. Zwart hadn't spent a great amount of time with them that Bucky had noticed over the course of the evening, but he certainly had passed by them an awful lot—long enough for brief exchanges. Were they in on it? He'd been watching the valet too, and he'd also noticed, though he wanted to confirm it with Monty, that the valet, who'd been circling the ballroom like a vulture, had been MIA for about half an hour not long after Monty had come around with his tray. If you were going to hide an enemy super-soldier somewhere in your house, your valet would probably have to be in on it.

"Oh, Daniel, darling," Peggy said, appearing from nowhere and latching on to his arm and looking very excited. "There you are. Herr Zwart has got just the most fabulous collection of art, and you'll never believe it, an actual Vermeer."

Bucky didn't entirely know what that meant, but he was clearly supposed to be excited about this, so he perked up. "Does he?"

"Yes!" Peggy enthused. "Just off in the south wing. Frau Zwart offered to take a group of us to see it, and I thought, oh, Daniel simply must see this, so I had to come and fetch you at once. You don't mind, do you, gentlemen?" she asked, turning to the rest of the group with a slight pout. "If I borrow him for just a teensy little moment?"

The other men chuckled and smiled indulgently. "Of course, my dear," one of the older men said. He smiled at Bucky. "Quite a charming creature you've got there, Captain."

Bucky wasn't sure what to say to that, so he just smiled as he stood up and slipped his arm around her waist again and followed her. "You said 'us'," he leaned in and whispered. "More people going to see this painting than you and me?"

"Mm-hmm," Peggy nodded. "I don't think we can break away from a smaller group like this without being missed, but we can do a bit of reconnaissance before we slip back later."

He nodded.

"I did have to tell her you liked art so she would wait for me to get you," she added. "Very quickly: Johannes Vermeer. Dutch Baroque master. It's called The Art of Painting. Artist's studio, thought to be a self-portrait of Vermeer, though it's from the back so we can't be sure. The book the model is holding identifies her as the Muse of History. Say something about the magnificent use of light and you should be alright."

Bucky looked down at her, raising an impressed eyebrow. "How do you know all that?"

She smiled. "Steve and I talk about more than missions, you know."

They joined the tour group, and Mrs. Zwart led them down into the south wing. Thus far, nothing about it seemed overly sinister. There were lots of paintings and little statues and vases and things that looked expensive, and it was entirely possible that the waitstaff had been told to keep out so they wouldn't steal anything, but it had a secluded feel that made it a good possibility. They stopped in front of a painting that seemed to be the one they'd been brought to see. Bucky made the appropriate impressed sounds and got a chorus of appreciative nods when he said something about how masterful the command of light was.

"Oh, indeed," Mrs. Zwart said. "You are an admirer of the Baroque, Captain?"

"Oh, yes," Bucky agreed. It was actually quite a nice painting. The level of tiny details in it was impressive. "Johannes Vermeer in particular—he's just such a master of the Dutch technique." He nodded up at the painting. "Do you suppose that's really a self-portrait, as so many people say?"

As he'd been hoping, the question sparked a conversation among the rest of the group. Peggy nodded slightly in approval, and they both took the moment to scan as much of the long corridor as possible, counting doors, noting lights, and looking for anything that might be out of the ordinary. Mrs. Zwart escorted them all back to the party, and as they were leaving the hall, they ran into Zwart himself waiting at the end. For a moment, Bucky was afraid they'd been figured out somehow, but Mrs. Zwart chuckled. "Oh, don't look so grumpy, Hugo. I was only showing them the Vermeer."

Zwart's stern face softened. "My dear, must you do that with all our guests? You'll give the impression we're showing off." The group chuckled at that.

"So what if we are?" she replied with a smile. "There's no point paying all that money for a painting if you're not going to let people enjoy it." More laughter at that, and the group dispersed back into the main party.

"A moment, Captain," Zwart said, catching Bucky's arm. "I didn't know you were so interested in the arts."

"I have a soft spot for the Dutch masters," Bucky said, nervous again. Was this another test? "A private passion of mine in university, but one I rarely get to indulge these days. It's very kind of your wife to allow me to see it."

Zwart nodded, seemingly in approval. "You're surprisingly well-rounded for a young man, Captain. The arts as well as the sciences. But come, while I have a moment, you must tell me about this program of yours."

"Oh, of course. Well," Bucky began. Where was Peggy? She said she would help him out if this happened.

"Daniel, dear, stop dawdling, I—oh! Pardon me, Herr Zwart," Peggy said, returning from where she'd been several steps ahead. She did that little curtsy thing again. "Such a lovely painting. It was really too good of you to let us see it."

"Not at all, my dear," Zwart replied.

"I suppose you were wanting to talk business with Daniel now," she continued, and there was that little pout again.

"You had something else in mind?" he asked.

"Oh, no, I don't want to keep you, I'm sure," she said quickly, blushing as though she was embarrassed to say whatever was next. "It's only, the music is too lovely, and Daniel promised me we could dance, only he's been so busy chatting all evening he hasn't danced with me once!"

Zwart chuckled. "Really, that's too bad of you, Captain, keeping this charming young thing waiting like that." He waved them towards the ballroom. "We can continue this later."

They thanked him and hurried off to the ballroom, joining the couples in the center of the room spinning to a slow waltz. "I've gotta say, this wasn't a skill set I pictured you having," Bucky told her.

Peggy shrugged and smiled. "Well, when people expect you to be a silly girl, you might as well learn to work it. Did you notice the far end of the wing while we were down there?"

"Low lights and a bolt on the door? Yep." He spun, dipped her down, pulled her back up close.

"Not that a bolt would keep Steve in, but it's worth investigating," she replied. "Did you see the other four doors at that end of the hallway? All closed."

"While the rest of them were open," he finished. "Definitely a suspicious hallway." He twirled her out and back again. "Should we check it out after the song's over?"

"Let's give it a few more songs," she said. "We probably shouldn't be the first couple to sneak off." She ran a hand playfully up his neck and tousled his hair. "And go on and slide your hand down a bit lower. When we do sneak off, we don't want there to be any doubts about what we're going to do."

They danced a little while longer. The music was good and Peggy was a great dancer, and if they weren't at a party hosted by one of the most dangerous wizards in Hydra and surrounded by people who were almost all involved in one kind of evil organization or another, it would have actually been kind of nice.

Eventually, Peggy decided it was safe to slip away, so they twined their fingers together and leaned in their heads in close and laughed softly as they edged toward the main door of the ballroom. Bucky caught a knowing glance from one of the men he'd been talking about cars with, and he blushed a little but managed a sly wink.

They carefully made their way to the entrance to the south wing. The valet (who Monty confirmed had been gone a while earlier) was down at the far end of the ballroom, Zwart was talking to a Nazi General, and the two Hydra guys he'd spotted earlier were over by the buffet. They were still careful, slipping off into the hallway. Just because he'd spotted two Hydra agents didn't mean there weren't more.

"Okay, how do we want to split this up?" Bucky asked. "Bottom floor first?" The whole hallway was in view from where they stood, but there were two levels.

"Yeah, I think so," Peggy agreed. Bucky nodded. If he was hauling a prisoner around as heavy as Steve, he wouldn't want to have to drag him up the stairs. "The bolted door seems the obvious place to start."

Still holding hands until they were sure they were far enough down the hallway to be out of sight, they headed for the bolted door at the end. Up close, it didn't look like it was quite what they were looking for. True, the bolt was on the outside, which generally meant something was being kept in instead of out, but it wasn't a particularly heavy-duty bolt, and the door was made of wood. Even semi-conscious, Steve could probably punch through that.

There was a lock through the bolt, and Peggy slipped off one of her earrings and twisted it, unscrewing the top and bottom and revealing a thin spike of metal. She handed it to Bucky and he started picking the lock, though he was momentarily distracted when she tugged on the front of her dress and stuck her hand down inside like she was digging for something.

"What are you…"

Her hand emerged with what Bucky recognized as the transmitter Howard had pieced together for them. In order to avoid detection by the security spells, it didn't operate on magic at all, and was simple enough that it only sent and received in Morse Code.

"Oh," he said, blushing a little and turning his attention back to the lock. "I was wondering where you put that." He heard her clicking a message to Gabe as he fiddled with the lock. "Got it," he told her.

"Gabe says it's clear outside. I told him we're starting the search properly now. Everyone else is alright so far." She slid the transmitter back inside her dress. "Go on," she said, nodding at the door.

Bucky eased the bolt open. Carefully pulling back the door, they peered into the room beyond. It was smaller than Bucky would have thought, and while he saw no sign of Steve, he could hear something breathing.

"That…doesn't sound like a person," Peggy said cautiously.

"No," Bucky agreed. They opened the door the rest of the way, and the light from the hallway illuminated the room and woke whatever the hell that thing was up. Something the size of a dog lunged at them, a flash of fur and scales and teeth and too many heads, and Bucky swallowed down a yelp and yanked the door shut. He heard the thing squawk as the chain around its neck pulled it back, and he and bolted the door and snapped the lock shut again. "What the hell was that!?"

"I have no idea," Peggy said, the arch of her eyebrows the only outward sign of the height of her alarm. "Something in the experimental evil wizard science realm, I would imagine."

"Right. Well, let's try door number two."

Thankfully, nothing jumped out at them after they picked the lock for the next room. The only thing they saw was stacks of notebooks and papers and a radio. "Study, maybe?" Bucky guessed. He nodded at the first aid kit on the desk. "Maybe an observation room for that hell-beast in there?"

"Probably," Peggy agreed. "Let's lock it back."

Re-locking the doors was harder than picking them open, but they got it done and repeated the process for the next two rooms. Laboratories of some kind—pickled things in jars and bubbling cauldrons and vials with brightly-colored potions. Given Zwart's position, it was probably all pretty important stuff, but none of it had anything to do with Steve.

"This is a bit more promising," Peggy mused as they stepped into the last of the cluster of locked rooms—the one furthest from the creature. It was a large study, with a rich mahogany desk and dark leather couches, soft light coming from expensive-looking lamps on the side tables. The carpet was thick and plush, and the walls were lined with heavy shelves of neatly stacked books and notebooks. Tasteful artwork in thin silver frames hung between the shelves. Casting an eye over the correspondence on the desk, Peggy nodded. "I think this is Zwart's personal study."

"Well, Steve's not in it," Bucky said. It was a large room, but not large enough to hide someone in.

"No," Peggy agreed. "But this is where Zwart keeps all of his important papers. There may very well be something here that tells us where he is."

That was a fair point, so while Peggy took the desk, Bucky dug through the drawers of the end tables. When those produced nothing, he joined Peggy at the desk, working on the side she hadn't gotten to yet. He was flipping through a handful of papers when several things happened at once that made his breath hitch in his throat—his eyes caught Steve's name and details of the setup at the farmhouse in the letter in his hand, and his ears caught the soft sound of feet on the carpet outside and the click of the doorknob.

Fortunately, the door opened in such a way that whoever was behind it would have to open it all the way and look around it before seeing the desk, which gave them two, maybe three seconds. Bucky dropped the papers and snapped his drawer shut, slapped Peggy's hand away from the one she was reaching for and gave her a hard shove that sent her stumbling back onto the sofa against the wall. She squeaked in surprise, and Bucky grimaced and hissed, "Sorry!" before diving for the couch and landing halfway on top of her, knocking her down flat against the cushions and starting to kiss her.

Thankfully, instead of slapping him senseless, Peggy realized what he was doing and started kissing him back, thrusting one hand up into his hair and using the other to yank on the knot in his tie and pull him in closer.

"Ahem!" The overhead lights clicked on and a very displeased throat cleared itself from the doorway. They both sat up quickly, red-faced, and met the eyes of Zwart's valet, staring at them coldly. "This is Master Zwart's private study. What are you doing in here?"

"Oh, we're so sorry!" Peggy said as she hurriedly straightened her hair. "We were just looking for a bit of privacy, is all. We didn't know we weren't supposed to be in here." Her face was so apologetically earnest that Bucky almost believed her.

The valet's thin face seemed to get longer as he frowned suspiciously. "This room was locked."

"Oh, but it wasn't!" Peggy said quickly, eyes going wide. "It wasn't, was it, Daniel?" she went on, looking at Bucky pleadingly. "We would never have done a thing like that!" She looked so innocent and offended all at once that Bucky had to fight down the urge to laugh.

"Really, we're very sorry," Bucky said, running an embarrassed hand over the hair Peggy had disheveled and trying to flatten it back down. "It really was, it was open. We didn't mean to cause any trouble." He got to his feet and extended a hand to Peggy. "Come on, Elsa, we should go. We're very sorry," he said again.

Peggy let him pull her to her feet and started straightening her dress, blushing. "We really do apologize, sir," she said with a quick curtsy.

"We hope we didn't cause you any trouble," Bucky added, fixing his tie as he ushered Peggy to the door. "We'll just go back to the party, and…sorry."

"I think that's best," the valet replied coolly.

Peggy flashed him a dazzling smile, reminiscent of a child who'd just gotten out of trouble. "Oh, thank you, sir!" She laid a hand softly on his arm, making his eyebrows go up in surprise. "You're so kind. We'll stay out of trouble, we promise." She moved for the door and Bucky saw something soften slightly in the valet's stern face and he knew they'd pulled it off. Man, she was good!

"See that you do," he told them, waving them out. "Oh, and, sir?" Bucky looked back at him and he tapped the side of his face just above his mouth. Bucky put a hand to his own face and pulled it away stained with the deep red of Peggy's lipstick. He blushed and wiped the rest of it away, but shrugged a little and smirked and he thought he saw a flicker of amusement in the valet's eye.

He wrapped his arm around Peggy and held her close as they headed back down the hall, not saying anything until he heard the door to the study lock behind them. He glanced back over his shoulder to see the valet was not there—probably checking to make sure they hadn't disturbed anything. They passed a few more doors and then ducked into an empty room.

"Peggy, I'm so sorry," Bucky said quickly. He had never felt more embarrassed in his life. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No, Bucky, it's okay," she said, and now that they were out of sight of the valet, he could see how nervous she'd been as she tried to catch her breath.

"No, I just, I didn't know what else to…" He hadn't been able to think of anything else to do to explain their presence.

"Bucky, it's fine," she repeated, breathing a little steadier now. "It was very quick thinking."

Yeah, that had been their whole cover, but it just felt wrong. It was all in the name of subterfuge, but he felt like he'd forced himself on her and it made him sick to his stomach. "I just, I hope you know I would never do something like that—"

She reached up and put a hand over his mouth to stop him talking. "Bucky," she said. "I do know that. You had to think fast, you saved our lives, and it is very okay with me that you did that. It's really alright." She must have been hanging around with Steve too long, because her voice sounded an awful lot like his did when he really meant something.

"Alright," he said, feeling some of the weight lift out of his stomach. "I didn't hurt you when I pushed you, did I?"

"No," she assured him. She smiled then. "And, you know, I have to say, you do live up to the gossip."

"Huh?"

She smiled even wider. "Oh, girls talk, Bucky."

"About…about me?"

"Oh, yes, they talk about you," she said with a grin. "The general consensus is that you, aside from being a quite a gentleman, are a very good kisser."

"Um…" Bucky felt his cheeks going warm again.

Peggy smirked. "They're not wrong."

"Um, th—thank you?" He really didn't know what to do with that.

She laughed softly and went up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "You are sweet, Bucky." Then she rested her hand on his arm and squeezed it, her hazel eyes blazing sincerity. "And we really are alright, you and me."

The rest of the weight lifted out of his stomach. "Okay." He smiled. "Thanks."

"Now," Peggy said softly. "I think, after the valet leaves, we need another look at that study."

Bucky nodded. "You saw his eyes?" Bucky's eyes had been locked on the valet's face the whole time, looking for any sign things were about to go wrong. The valet's eyes had been fairly sternly fixed on them too, but they kept darting quickly to the side, and he'd relaxed just a tad too much when he seemed to decide they were innocent.

"Oh, yes," she agreed. "There was something in that back corner he was worried we might've found. An awfully innocent-looking corner for that sort of concern."

Bucky nodded, then placed a finger to his lips. Footsteps again, and through the crack in the door, he saw the valet walking back down the hall. He didn't look angry, or panicked or rushed, so he must have satisfied himself that they really hadn't disturbed anything. They both held their breath as he passed by, then waited a few minutes more.

"Round two?" Bucky asked quietly.

"Round two," Peggy agreed.

They slipped back into the hall, shooting careful glances back behind them in the direction of the party and onto the landings above. They seemed to be clear. The door to the study was locked again, but Bucky still had Peggy's lockpick and had it open again soon. This time, he locked it back behind them.

"Okay," he said quietly, moving to the corner the valet had kept looking at. "What didn't he want us to see?" The corner seemed innocent enough. One wall held a bookshelf filled with what looked like scientific journals. The other wall held only a painting of a waterfall in a large silver frame.

"Well, it could be anything in there," Peggy said, waving at the shelf. "He might keep some of his research there or something." Bucky didn't think that was it, and she didn't sound particularly convinced of the theory either. "Or…" She trailed off, her eyes drifting around the room before coming to land on the waterfall painting. She smiled, running her hands along the frame, then tilted it to the left. The whole wall swung back like a door. "It might be that."

"I think it's that," Bucky replied. He looked down at her and smiled. "Nice catch."

She shrugged, but she was smiling. "It was a lot bulkier than the other frames. Didn't match."

He grinned and offered her his arm, and they carefully moved forward into the corridor behind the wall. It swung shut of its own accord behind them. Ahead of them was a low, flickering light—candles. The little corridor turned sharply, then opened up into a low stone room. An iron chandelier lit with candles illuminated most of the room, and a soft, rhythmic clicking noise filled the air. Bucky's eyes followed the noise and then his heart leapt up into his throat. On the darker side of the room, unaware of their presence and staring vacantly into space, was Steve.

"Steve!" He was sitting in a metal chair that was bolted to the floor, restraints that covered his forearms and calves holding him in place. He sat there shivering in nothing but his shorts, his uniform in a bloody pile on the floor behind him. Anger burned hot in Bucky's chest as his eyes took in Steve's exposed skin—he was covered in blood and bruises and burn marks, some of it old and healing and some of it obviously fresh. Close to, Bucky realized the look in his eyes wasn't one of vacancy—he was clearly somewhere else right now, but his gaze was distantly focused on something behind Bucky. Whatever it was, he couldn't look away.

Bucky turned to see what it was he was looking at and discovered the source of the clicking—on a small table opposite Steve was a little metal stand, about a foot tall. From the crossbar on top hung five little metal spheres in a line, each on their own wire, and they were moving. The one on the end swung down and hit the line of the others—click—which popped the one on the other end up, then it swung back down—click—and the first one popped up again. Bucky remembered seeing something like it in grade school in science class—something to do with momentum, or the transfer of motion, or something like that. It had been kind of fun to play with, but this one felt different. It felt…sinister. Definitely magical. And it…it kept clicking and Bucky blinked heavily, and, wow, it really was hard to stop looking at…

No. No! Bucky blinked again and drew in a sharp breath, and he wasn't sure if he could just look away from it so he spun his whole body around instead and instantly his head felt clear again. "Whoa," he breathed. That had taken an insane amount of effort, and he wasn't the one half out of it and beat to hell. No wonder Steve couldn't stop looking at it. And… "Peggy!" he hissed, grabbing her shoulders and spinning her away from the thing.

She blinked rapidly and inhaled sharply. "Bloody hell," she whispered.

"Yeah," Bucky agreed. He could still hear it clicking behind them, and he didn't think it would be a good idea to touch a dark object like that, but he had to get it to stop somehow. He looked back behind him, eyes down to avoid catching the device again, and found the leg of the table it was resting on. He kicked it and knocked the table over, and the little metal thing fell to the floor with a clatter and was silent.

He looked back up at Steve, hoping he'd snap out of it now that the thing had stopped. His focused stare was gone, but the distant haze remained. Bucky felt rage rising again in his chest. What the hell had they done to him?! They hadn't hurt him, no—the neat precision of the cuts, the depth of the burns, the sheer volume of the bruising—they hadn't hurt him, they'd tortured him. He took a step forward and Steve shrank back with a barely audible whimper, and fury burned hot in Bucky's chest, in his gut, in his soul. They were going to pay for this.

"Bucky," Peggy said, and she was there at his side again, her hand on his arm. "Bucky, you need to calm down."

He whirled to face her, furious disbelief in his eyes. "Calm down?" he repeated. His magic was vibrating under his skin, uncontrolled and enraged, and he was as far from calm as he could be. "Look at what they did to him! How can you—"

"I know!" Peggy snapped, and Bucky saw the same fire in her eyes that he felt in his heart. "And believe me, I am furious. But we are still in the middle of a dangerous mission, and we need to keep our heads." She leaned in closer. "And you need to calm down because you're scaring him," she finished.

Bucky's eyes darted back to Steve, and he did look scared, shrinking back into his chair as far as his restraints would allow, eyes wide and frightened and breath coming in uneven hitches. Remorse immediately gushed through Bucky's body, quenching the rage-fueled fire in his soul. But that magic had to go somewhere, and he snarled and released it behind him in a wild burst that he felt hit the table on the floor and shatter the little metal clicking thing into a thousand pieces.

"I'm sorry, Stevie, I'm sorry," he whispered, leaning down a little so he was on eye level with Steve. Steve was still breathing raggedly, so Bucky reached out carefully and took his head in his hands, pulling it forward gently and tucking it under his chin as he hugged him as best as he could around the restraints. "Sh, sh, it's okay," he soothed, patting the back of his head. "It's okay. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. It's okay now, Stevie, you're gonna be okay. I've got you."

Steve's breathing was starting to slow down again, and Bucky closed his eyes and let out a stuttering breath of his own, fighting back the urge to cry. "It's okay," he whispered again. "You're gonna be okay." He pulled back a little to look at him, his hands sliding down his neck, and he leaned over to look as the right one caught on something and Steve flinched.

With the angle Steve was sitting, Bucky hadn't seen it from where he came in, but there in the side of Steve's neck was a large needle, thin plastic tubing leading away to an IV stand further back in the dark. Bucky swallowed down another wave of anger before it had time to build. "Peggy," he said softly, nodding at Steve's neck. Her breath went very quiet and her lips went very thin and she nodded. She could see it.

"Let's get that out, huh?" Bucky said, turning back to Steve. He carefully peeled up the tape holding the needle in place. Underneath, the skin was red and swollen around the needle, tinged with dark green from whatever it was they were pumping into him. "Okay," Bucky said, placing his fingers on either side of the needle. He pulled on it gently and Steve let out a soft whimper as it tugged on the tender skin. "I know it hurts, I'm sorry," Bucky said. The needle slid free and he tossed it aside, pressing his sleeve carefully over the blood that welled up in its wake. "There we go. That feels better, doesn't it?"

Steve was breathing a little easier now, and Bucky pulled him back slowly into another hug. For a minute he just held on to him, trying to help him feel calm, to feel safe, and just assuring himself that Steve was still there. "You're gonna be okay. Whatever they did to you, we're gonna fix it." He pulled back, leaving his hands on Steve's face and looking into his glassy eyes with a watery smile. "We're gonna make it better and you're gonna be okay, Stevie, I swear."

Steve didn't look scared anymore, but he didn't respond, just blinking slowly. "Hey," Bucky said. "I know that stuff did a number on you, but I'm getting worried here, man." He rubbed his thumb gently across his cheek, mindful of the long slash under his eye. "Can you give me a little something? Just let me know you're in there."

For a long moment, nothing. Then Steve blinked, then he blinked again, and again, a little faster, like he was trying to pull something into focus.

"There you go, Stevie, come on," Bucky said encouragingly. Steve blinked again and Bucky smiled. "Hey, there you are."

Steve was looking at him blearily, confused and sick and still a little lost, but he was in there. His eyebrows furrowed, like he was squinting to see him even though he was all of eight inches away. " 'uck?" he rasped.

A wide grin split Bucky's face. "Yeah, Stevie, it's me."

"R'ly here?"

"I'm really here," he replied, pressing his hands more firmly to his face.

Steve blinked again, then sagged down in relief, a crooked, drunken, but happy smile on his face. "Foun' me."

"Yeah, I did."

"Knew y' would." His crooked smile got a little bigger. "Always fin' me."

A lump rose up in Bucky's throat, and he had to swallow it back down before he could reply. "That's right, I do," he said, his voice rough with emotion. Everything they'd done to Steve, and who knew where the hell his head had been, but he'd never doubted, just trusting Bucky to come get him. "And I always will."

Steve smiled contentedly and let his head loll back against the chair. "Hey, no, stick with me, man," Bucky said, patting his cheek as his eyes started to glaze over again. "You ready to get out of here?"

"Uh huh," Steve said softly.

"Okay." Bucky started working at the restraints with the lockpick he used on the door, but it wasn't big enough. He straightened up, patting Steve's leg. "I'll be right back, okay?"

"Wh—where y' goin'?" Steve asked, and it broke Bucky's heart to see the fear that jumped back into Steve's eyes.

"Just to get something to open these with," he said, tapping the cuff around Steve's arm with his knuckle. He squeezed Steve's shoulder reassuringly. "I'll be back, I promise. Look, turn your head like this," he said, nudging the side of Steve's face. "And you can watch me go, alright?"

Steve's head rolled in the direction Bucky nudged it. "Oh, 's Peggy," he said, spotting her at the desk in the corner. "I like Peggy."

Bucky smiled and patted Steve's cheek. "I know you do. And I'm just going over to her and I'm coming right back, okay?"

"'kay."

Bucky hurried over to Peggy. "Hey, do you have anything longer I can use to get those cuffs open? And what are you doing?"

She paused in her search of the desk to unclasp her necklace. "Yeah, here." She twisted the large diamond on the front and it opened, a long, thin piece of metal unfolding from inside. She swallowed hard and nodded over at Steve. "They obviously wanted something out of him. If they got anything, I need to find it and destroy it. Don't look at me like that, Bucky. I hate that I have to think this way, but it's my job."

"Steve wouldn't—" Bucky began.

"I know he would never give them anything," she cut him off. "Not willingly," she added. She shook her head. "But Zwart is a wizard and a scientist, and there are plenty of ways to get something out of someone unwillingly."

A sick knot twisted in Bucky's stomach. He hadn't thought of that. And whatever that green stuff was they'd been pumping into Steve's neck… There were a lot of nasty ways someone could be made to talk. "You mean like Veritaserum?"

"Well, not that exactly, but something like it," Peggy said. "Veritaserum doesn't work on Steve."

"It doesn't?" Bucky asked.

She shook her head. "Professor Erskine built an immunity to it into the super-soldier serum. He was very intentional about it. But that doesn't mean there aren't other things that might work."

Bucky nodded grimly. "Alright." He took the longer lockpick and headed back to Steve.

Steve still had his head rolled over in their direction, though his eyes were drifting shut as he watched him walk back. "Hey, Stevie, you hanging in there?" Bucky asked, kneeling next to the chair to start work on the locks.

"Mm-hmm."

Down on this level, Bucky could see in the darkness behind him the broken remains of another chair and smaller cuffs stacked up in the corner. He smiled. He knew Steve would have put up a fight. And it went a long way toward explaining the drugs in the IV and the evil clicking thing in a way that was a little bit less worrying than it could have been—at least they weren't poisoning him or anything. They'd just had to get creative with a way to subdue him. Steve was a hard one to keep down.

It didn't take him too long to get the cuffs open, though he had to hop up and catch him to keep him from slumping forward out of the chair. "S'ry," Steve mumbled into Bucky's shoulder.

"It's not your fault, Stevie," Bucky assured him, patting the back of his head. "Don't worry about it, okay? I've got you."

"Don' think I c'n walk," he muttered.

"Hey, look at me," Bucky said, crouching down to look him in the eye. "That's never stopped me from gettin' you out of trouble before, has it? Just because you're bigger than me now, don't think I won't carry you."

Steve blinked red, runny eyes up at him. "Thanks," he whispered.

Bucky wasn't sure where he could touch Steve that wouldn't hurt, but he finally worked his way under Steve's left arm, which looked less injured than the right. Carefully, he straightened back up, pulling Steve up with him. He shifted and adjusted once they were upright until all of Steve's weight was resting on him, and, holy cow, he was heavy, but he was never gonna be too heavy for Bucky. "Alright." He patted his arm. "Let's blow this joint." He looked over to where Peggy was. "Peggy, we gotta go."

She hurried over. "I haven't finished yet. There's nothing written down, but there could be memories in a Pensieve, or blood samples, or—"

"Peggy, I know, but I can't get him out of here on my own," Bucky said. "I can't carry him and fight at the same time." Avoiding a fight would be ideal, but he wasn't taking chances, not now, and he wasn't leaving Peggy here. An idea struck him. He nodded up at the iron chandelier. "Torch the place," he said.

"What?"

"Knock a couple of those candles off and torch the room. The secret wall will keep it from spreading to the rest of the house and it'll destroy anything you might have missed. Then we'll get Steve out, and we'll send Jacques in to search the rest of the house."

Peggy nodded. "That'll work."

Bucky turned and started moving Steve back to the corridor that led to the study. He wasn't sure how they'd get out from there, especially with the shape Steve was in, but it was the only way out. And Steve was still shivering, and Bucky didn't want to try to force him back into the bloody mess of his uniform, but there were blankets on the couches in the study, and that would be something.

"Hey, Buck?" Steve rasped as they walked.

"Yeah?"

"Y' sure y're r'ly you?"

"Yeah," Bucky replied, squeezing his arm firmly. "I'm really me, Stevie, I promise."

"Thought so," Steve agreed. "But y' look weird."

Bucky absorbed that for a minute as they walked. Oh, right. "You mean because of my hair?"

"Mm-hmm."

Bucky smiled. "I was just trying out a new look for the party tonight."

"Don' like it," Steve declared.

That got a laugh out of Bucky. "You know what? I don't either. I'll fix it when we get home."

"Good."

The click of Peggy's heels on the stone floor told Bucky she'd caught up with them as they reached the door. Fortunately, this side had a handle and was easy enough to open. Peggy went first into the study in case it was occupied, although Bucky wasn't sure what she was going to do without weapons or a wand.

"Clear," she told him.

The clock on the mantel chimed softly. "Time zit?" Steve asked.

"Midnight," Bucky answered. He lowered him down carefully onto the nearest couch, pulling the throw from the back and wrapping it around him.

"Vulture guy'll be back soon," Steve said, sinking back against the cushions and closing his eyes.

"The valet?" Bucky guessed. With his long, solemn face and hooked nose, Bucky supposed the comparison was fair enough.

"Mm," Steve grunted. "'posed t' change th' green stuff." That one took a second to decipher, but he probably meant the potion in the IV.

"Okay," Bucky said. "So, we need to get out of here."

"Actually," Peggy said thoughtfully. "This could work."

"What?" Bucky asked. "No, we need to go!"

"Trust me, Bucky," Peggy said.

He had no idea what her plan was, but she was right. He'd been trusting her so far and everything had worked, and he knew she wouldn't do anything that would put Steve in danger. "Okay. What do I do?"

"Get him over onto that couch behind the door."

Steve grunted unhappily at being forced to move, but he allowed Bucky to get him upright again and even tried to help a little. Bucky was just getting him settled again when he heard a key click in the lock. "Sh," he whispered to Steve, and he was instantly quiet. By the door, Peggy had kicked her heels off and was standing ready in a fighting stance, two long, thin stilettos in her hands and where the hell had she gotten those?

The valet stepped in and Peggy lunged forward, whirling and slashing, and the valet yelped and backpedaled in the direction of one of the shelves. Bucky was on his feet to help, but Peggy was already kicking away a knife that had appeared in the valet's hand, slamming him into the side of the shelf, then one stiletto and then the other was stabbing through each of his shoulders and into the wood of the shelf behind, pinning him in place with a painful howl. One of her hands flew back, slid a third piece of metal out of the clip holding her hair up and flicked it, sending a long, telescoping blade out to lock in place with a click and pressing it against the valet's throat all in one fluid motion. Bucky had only made it as far as the door.

"Another sound and I'll slit your throat, are we clear?" Peggy hissed. The valet nodded. "Bucky, shut the door."

Bucky did, peeking out to make sure no one was coming, then picked up the key the valet had dropped and locked them in. Steve was slumped over sideways on the couch, smiling sleepily in Peggy's direction. "She's good."

"Yeah, she is," Bucky agreed, still feeling somewhat awed.

Still keeping her knife at the valet's throat, Peggy pulled out the transmitter and tossed it to Bucky. "Tell Gabe we found him, and to get Monty out and get Jacques the hell over here. And get Jim around to this window."

Bucky started clicking the little device, one ear on Peggy and the valet.

"Now," she said in a sweet tone that was by far the most frightening one Bucky had ever heard her use. "You're going to get us out of here."

"I am?" the valet asked, far less confidently than Bucky knew he'd meant to sound.

"You are." She nodded at the window, then reached a hand into the man's pocket and pulled out his wand. "Disable all the security spells on the window."

"I—" he started to protest, and Peggy pulled the knife from his throat, stabbed him abruptly just below the sternum, then pressed it against his throat again.

"Now," she snapped.

He nodded, gasping, and reached up to take his wand with a shaking hand. "I need to be over—"

She punched him where she'd stabbed him and he would have hit the ground if he wasn't pinned to the shelf. "You can do it from here," she said. She pressed the knife harder against his throat until a thin line of red appeared. "And you will remove every single spell that is on that window, and you will not raise one alarm or I will kill you and I will do it very slowly, is that understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he whispered.

Bucky could feel magic moving around the window, though there was no other hint that the spells were changing. After a few minutes, the valet dropped the wand. "That's it," he said.

"It had better be," Peggy replied. "Bucky, is Jim here yet?"

Bucky looked out the window, careful not to touch it in case some of the spells were still active. He spotted Jim creeping along the hedges, and in another minute, he was at the window. "Jim, what's the status of the security spells on the window?" he asked.

Jim waved his wand at the window. "All down," he declared.

Peggy turned back to the valet. "Thank you for your cooperation." She removed the knife from his throat and punched him hard, knocking his head back into the wood and slamming him into unconsciousness. She yanked the knives out of his shoulders and let him slide into a heap on the floor, crouching down to wipe the blood off the blades on his jacket.

Jim let out a low whistle. "Man, I'm glad she's on our side."

"Tell me about it," Bucky agreed, working with Jim to shove the heavy window open.

Jim clambered up and in, his eyes narrowing in displeasure as he caught sight of Steve on the couch. "Hey there, Cap," he said. Steve's eyes blinked open groggily. "Good to see you."

"You too," Steve croaked.

"Where's it hurt?" Jim asked, passing his wand over him.

"Ev'rywhere," Steve replied.

Bucky swallowed down a lump of nausea at Steve's reply, but left Jim to his work, moving over to Peggy. She was folding her knives back in on themselves and replacing them in her hair clip, which was evidently more of a process than getting them out. "Hey," he told her. She looked up. "Anybody ever tell you that you are incredible?"

She smiled. "You're not so bad yourself. We make a pretty good team."

"We sure do," he agreed. "You ready to get out of here?"

"Oh, hell, yes," she enthused.

They moved back over to where Jim was sitting with Steve. "Well?" Bucky asked.

"He's a mess," Jim replied. "But he'll live."

Bucky smiled, relief undoing some of the knot in his stomach.

"Needs more than I can do here, though," Jim continued. "Do you know what this stuff is they dosed him with?"

"No."

"Well, it's a hell of a sedative, whatever else it is, and it's making it hard for me to heal around it. I could do it, but Rains could do it faster, and the less magic we do in here, the better." Jim eyed the window. "Let me go down first, and I'll help you get him out."

It took some work getting Steve out the window, even though the drop to the ground was only four feet. Jacques had shown up by the time they were out, and he hopped up eagerly back into the house once Peggy had told him what to look for. Gabe was going to stay behind and act as backup until he was out. Monty was going to meet up with Dugan and they were going to get back to the safehouse and take the fireplace home. The rest of them were going by Portkey. Jacques tossed one of the study chairs out the window for them, and they hauled it and Steve out past the boundary of the house. Peggy used Jim's wand to turn the chair into a Portkey, then they sat Steve down in it, the rest of them holding on to the frame.

"Alright, Stevie," Bucky said, one hand on the arm of the chair and one on Steve's shoulder—both for assurance and to keep him from falling out. "Let's go home."

---

The team has their Captain back and it's time to go home. I know it was awfully hard on poor Steve, but don't worry-some nice recovery chapters are up next. His people are going to take care of him.

Happy New Year, everybody! Hope your year is off to a good start!

Oh, and if you're having a hard time picturing blond Bucky, google 'blond Sebastian Stan', which I did to get a visual for this. It's different. I mean, the man looks good in anything, but there's a weird alternate universe kind of feel to it.